


Perfume

by sonictrowel



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, i just love them and missed them a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 20:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12284226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonictrowel/pseuds/sonictrowel
Summary: The Doctor returned to the TARDIS in a huff and immediately skidded to a stop inside the doors.  It just… felt different.  And, maybe, perhaps, if he wasn’t imagining things, smelt different?  Almost like a sort of …violet?  Whatever it was, it was pinging off receptors in his brain and racing down neural pathways to his subconscious and making his pulse start to pick up for no discernable reason.  It was familiar, that much was certain.  In fact, it was on the tip of his tou—Oh.





	Perfume

**Author's Note:**

> I managed to take more than a month off writing but I just can't quit these two. I missed them too much! And while I've written probably every word I've got in me on the Twelfth Doctor, there is definitely some Eleven left to be had...
> 
> This is not in the continuity of Long Night, just a little look into series 6. :)

 

The Doctor was quite sure that something was amiss in the control room.  Or, if not amiss, then at least somehow… altered.

He’d only been out a few hours, attempting to cajole the Ponds into accompanying him on a very tame, hardly at all potentially life-threatening safari through the jungles of Deva Loka in search of some very interesting megafauna, but for some reason they hadn’t been keen.  One would think that after three months spent in America tracking the Silence and the whole Amy-being-kidnapped thing, they’d welcome a holiday, but there was just no accounting for humans sometimes.

The Doctor returned to the TARDIS in a huff and immediately skidded to a stop inside the doors.  It just… _felt_ different.  And, maybe, perhaps, if he wasn’t imagining things, smelt different?  Almost like a sort of …violet?  Whatever it was, it was pinging off receptors in his brain and racing down neural pathways to his subconscious and making his pulse start to pick up for no discernable reason.  It was familiar, that much was certain.  In fact, it was on the tip of his tou—

_Oh._

The Doctor cleared his throat, fidgeting with his bow tie as, much to his irritation, the blood began to rush to his face.

“River?” he called out uncertainly.  “Is that you?”  

He attempted to quell the excitement zipping along his spine by working up some annoyance.  “It’s really rather rude to invite yourself into someone’s TARDIS when they’re not at home!”

“I hardly need to invite myself,” River casually replied, emerging from a corridor with an armful of clothing.  “If you won’t do it, she will.”  His traitorous TARDIS hummed her agreement as River approached with a grin spreading across her lovely face.

“Well—” the Doctor stuttered, glancing aside to scowl at the time rotor as the distance closed between them, “it’s, it’s, not that I _wouldn’t_ —”  Suddenly she was _very_ close, and conflicting impulses were crashing rapidly together in his brain as she began to lean toward him.  

_Run!  Escape!  Flail and shout something stupid!_

_No, you idiot, just grab her like you’ve been wanting to do for_ ages _and she_ obviously _wants you to, too_ —

 _No no no no, you can’t do that, you can't start because you_ know _how it_ ends—

At the last moment she hesitated, a familiar shadow flickering over her face.  He could see her wondering if it was too soon— too _late._

_“What’s wrong?  You’re acting like we’ve never done that before.”_

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, the Doctor gathered his bravery and reached for her with trembling hands before she could pull away.

Her sigh swept over his cheek, the momentary tension melting out of her as she pressed up against him, curling the fingers of her free hand in his hair, and _why_ was he fighting this again?  He was sure there was a reason— a good one, but at the moment, with her soft lips sliding over his and her perfume clouding his brain, it eluded him.

One of his hands settled on her lower back while the other, seemingly of its own volition, crept along her shoulder to tangle in her magnificent curls: _springy-silky,_ even better and much softer than he'd imagined.  The Doctor surrendered to the giddy thrill of his discovery, though he wasn’t entirely sure he was going to have an easy time freeing his hand again.

River hummed with pleasure as she pulled back, just enough to catch her breath, her eyelashes fluttering against his cheek.

“Hello,” she murmured, low and throaty and audibly smiling.  A shiver went through him and left a tingling warmth in its wake.

“Hello,” the Doctor croaked in reply.  He could probably let go of her now, but found he was not particularly interested in doing so.  “What, uh, brings you to Leadworth?”

She laughed that brilliant, musical laugh, and his hearts sort of hiccoughed as her hair tickled his face and her lips brushed over his jaw.

“Oh, I just got the dates wrong.  Bit early.  Though not, it would seem, quite as early as I feared.”

That hadn’t actually been an answer to his question, but she caught his eye and smiled, and there was nothing teasing in her expression.  What he saw there instead he didn’t dare name, but for a moment he forgot to breathe, let alone what he’d been asking her.

“Shall we do diaries?” she asked brightly, slipping out of his arms to hop up the steps to the console.  The Doctor tried not to acknowledge the sudden feeling of loss as his fingers twitched around empty air, but he was following her before he noticed his feet were moving.

She unloaded the pile of dresses she’d been carrying (no doubt pilfered from the wardrobe) onto a jump seat and produced the blue book from the inside pocket of her jacket.

“Aren’t we supposed to do that first?” he asked, leaning self-consciously against the console.  He had quite lost the upper hand in this encounter and desperately needed to re-establish his cool.  Normally they fell into a sort of choreographed exchange to which they both just naturally seemed to know the steps, but flirting and trading quickfire witticisms was one thing.  Now it was becoming another kind of dance entirely, and River was doing circles round him.

“Oh, I’ve other ways of telling.  It’s very sweet when you’re all young and bashful and tongue-tied.”

He opened his mouth to object, but nothing came out, the blood rushing to his face once more.  She laughed again, low and warm, and no, there would definitely be no regaining his footing today.  

“You’re not disappointed, then?” he managed to ask.  He’d meant to pick up their usual banter, but he was all out of sorts, and wound up sounding far too sincere.

She looked surprised for a moment, but then her face softened into a fond smile as she stepped closer, reaching up to straighten his bow tie.

“Never that, my love.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d called him that, but it still felt like there were a couple of hammers being swung about in his chest.  

He couldn’t help smiling back at her.

That she could still so easily tell he was young was becoming a terribly intriguing thought, because it suggested he _would_ learn the steps to this dance.  That he would someday match her boldness and skill in this, too.  He found he rather liked the idea.

The voice of self-preservation tried weakly to assert itself again, but he never had been very good at listening to it.  Why start now?

River returned to flipping through her diary, old and worn and more filled than not, but still newer than the last time he’d seen it.

“Where are we, then?” she asked, flicking over another page.  “Obviously before… well, spoilers.”  She smiled again.  “Florana?”

“Oh, brilliant planet.  But er, no, we haven’t been.”

“How about the Bone Meadows?”

“Uh, yes, done that one!”

“Ah, then I think I have the general area.  Oh, Doctor.”  She shut her diary and fixed him with that look again, the one that was soft and knowing and somehow made his hearts ache.  “Things are going to be quite exciting for you soon.”

“Are they?” he asked, clearing his throat as he suddenly went hoarse.

River smiled wistfully.  “Yes.  And I’m sorry.”

“So you keep sayi— _mmf.”_  She kissed him again, pressing him back into the console, and really, that seemed a much higher priority than pursuing a line of questioning that would almost certainly only result in her answering “spoilers.”

So maybe she was going to kill him some time in the future.  It didn’t worry him much; could be worse.  She could stop kissing him.

 

——

 

He knew it was her the minute they dragged him into the room, long before he saw her.  A familiar floral fragrance lingered in the air.  The sandstone walls were draped with silks in rich colours, the bed piled with plush cushions, and, he quite was sure, the wardrobe in the corner would be packed with anachronistic weaponry and several pairs of high heels.  

The guards who’d caught him probably thought he was mad, as he completely failed to hide the smirk spreading across his face while anticipation bloomed in his chest.  Not really the fearful or repentant expression one would expect of a chained man being tossed to the floor of their ruler’s chambers.

“Wait here,” one of them growled, eyeing him with a slightly nervous scowl.  “The Pharaoh wishes to pass judgment on you personally.”

“Oh, of course,” the Doctor replied.  “You lot better get back to your patrolling, could be other trespassers out there!  In fact, I might’ve left a couple of them there myself.  We could be ages in here.  Always take a while to judge.  I mean, really, where do you start?”

He glanced over his shoulder; rather uncomfortable with his hands chained behind his back, but the guards had already gone.

“The bow tie would be the obvious place,” River replied, emerging from a doorway hidden behind the drapery.  She was stunning— in fact, he thought he recognised the dress she’d worn (would wear) as Cleopatra, but without the wig hiding her glorious hair or the necklace hiding her glorious… other things.

He completely forgot to come to his bow tie’s defence.

“Speechless, are we?” she flashed him a toothy grin that was somehow predatory and fond at once.  “Now this is a rare occasion indeed.”

“And what sort of trouble are you getting into here, Dr. Song?” he retorted, determined not to be bashful or tongue-tied today.  “Or should I say Hatshepsut?”

“Trouble?  You wound me, Doctor.  I’m only here to see history done properly.  I’m afraid the original Pharoah has scarpered with her royal husband’s second wife.  Someone had to step in to make sure the trading expeditions still got underway.”

“You know, I’d have pinned you for the other one.”

“It’s true, I didn’t see her before she left, and everyone’s been quite convinced of me.”

“Hah.”

“Now the question is, what am I to do with you?”

“Well,” the Doctor just managed not to squeak, “you _are_ always trying to get me into handcuffs.”

A wicked smile spread over River’s face as she crossed the room toward him.  “And here you are, all tied up for me.  Is it my birthday?”

The Doctor swallowed as she sank to her knees in front of him, refusing to look away as his hearts pounded and his cheeks burned. 

Something in her face softened as she fixed him with that gaze, the one that always seemed to be able to see more than she really ought to.  Then she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his, kissing him with a tenderness that caught him entirely off-guard.  His hands moved to hold her without conferring with his brain, causing the chains to bite into his wrists as they held tight, but she wrapped her arms around him, her fingertips slipping beneath the metal and soothing his chafed skin.

Her tongue traced along his upper lip as she breathed hotly over his cheek, and then her mouth covered his again, moving soft and slow.  The taste of her, just slightly sweet and becoming ever more pleasantly familiar, made his head swim.  A little whimper echoed from her throat and spread through him in a wave of heat that made his toes curl.

He didn’t even notice until she pulled away that his hands had been freed.  He rotated his stiff wrists and reached for her face, brushing back her hair and grazing her cheekbone with his thumb.  Her eyes shone and her kiss-swollen lips spread into a smile, and for some reason his own eyes were suddenly stinging.  Probably the desert air. 

“Thought you wanted me in handcuffs,” the Doctor mumbled, for a distraction from the lump in his throat.

One side of River’s mouth quirked up as she shook her head in fond exasperation.  “Maybe when you’re older, honey.” 

She got to her feet, leaving him in a dazed heap on the floor.

“How could you tell?” he whinged.

She just chuckled to herself, and kept her secrets.

 

——

 

“River!” the Doctor called, his coat tails trailing after him as he hurried down the corridor.  “We’re going to be late for dinner!  Are you decent?”

 _“Time machine,_ sweetie.  We can’t be late.  And you’re welcome to check!” came her sing-song reply through his bedroom door.

Well— _fine,_ maybe he would!  Honestly, how was she the only frequent guest of his TARDIS who didn’t have her own room?

So, alright, he probably knew the answer to that.

It felt like there was a sort of fluttering thing trapped behind his ribs as he opened the door.

“Oh.”

She was, in fact, already dressed, leaning over a vanity which he was quite sure hadn’t been there earlier, applying red lipstick to match the silky red shawl she wore over her little black dress.  The air was heavy with her perfume, sweet and bright and subtly earthy, and her hair tumbled over her shoulder in soft spirals as she glanced back at him.

“Don’t look so disappointed, sweetie,” she purred.  “You can always help me out of it later.”

The Doctor coughed and flushed, deciding to let that one pass without comment.

“Well,” she said, turning away from the mirror and standing fully, “what do you think?  Will I do?”

There was a smirk on her red lips, but something else, something unsure in her bright eyes.  That River Song could feel the slightest bit insecure seemed like the most absurd thought he’d had all day— and that was saying something— but he glanced around the room at her recently-appeared things and remembered that it was all still a bit new for him.  Not so for her.

“You’re lovely, dear,” he said with a smile, his voice low and sincere as he moved toward her, and her face lit up like a sun.

He didn’t know why she bothered with lipstick when it seemed he always ended up wearing it instead.

 

——

 

The Doctor woke from a doze he didn’t remember slipping into, feeling more sleepy and peaceful and content than he could remember being in… well, he was sure that’d come to him eventually.  At the moment, he preferred to focus on the wonderfully familiar scent of parma violets filling his nose as he breathed deep, his face pressed into the warm, smooth expanse of River’s skin, which was just begging to be kissed.  He wrapped his arms tighter around her middle, hugging her back to his chest as his lips trailed lazily across her shoulder, and he heard her let out a shuddering, suspiciously wet-sounding breath.

He suddenly wasn’t very sleepy anymore.

“River?”  He sat up on his elbow, leaning over her as she hastily wiped her eyes.  “What’s the matter?  Did— did I do something wrong?”  

Panic gripped him as she tried futilely to hide her tears.  It had certainly been a _very_ long time for him, but, well… she seemed happy enough before, and she’d not even taken it the wrong way when his own eyes became troublesomely wet.  But this didn’t seem like that kind of crying.

“No, sweetie,” she said, her voice choked as she shook her head.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t, I didn’t mean to—” she hid her face again as her shoulders shook silently and the Doctor’s hearts felt like they’d dropped into his stomach.

“Oh, River.”  He pulled her gently by the shoulder, turning her toward him as she shook her head and weakly resisted.

“River, please, look at me.  Talk to me.”  He was obviously completely rubbish at this.  “Is it… is it because of where I’ve just been?  Because of your parents?  Because I couldn’t…” his throat tried to close around the words before he could choke them out.  “...because I can’t save you?”

“Oh, honey, no,” she whispered, finally turning to face him, but she only tucked her face into his neck and wrapped her arms around him, still hidden from view.  “I don’t want you to save me.  I don’t want you to change a thing.  You’ll see, soon.  You’ll see how it all works out.  And I’m sorry for that, too.”

“You need to stop saying that,” he laughed softly, “if _anyone_ should be sorry—”

“Oh, let’s not start that,” she moaned.  “It’ll never end if we do.”

“Then please, River, just tell me what it is.”

“It— it’s just, you know… first times,” she admitted in a quiet, broken whisper, her lips moving against his skin.

 _Oh._  The Doctor’s hearts constricted as her voice echoed in his memory again: _“And a last time.”_

“Oh, River, River, River,” he sighed, leaning back and cupping his hands around her face as she continued to try to avert her eyes, “it’s _not_ the last time for you.  I promise.  Even if I didn’t know, I’d make sure of it, but I… I know.”

She wiped her eyes again as she finally looked up at him, sniffling.  “Spoilers?” she asked, almost hopefully.

“Spoilers,” he confirmed, his lips twitching into a sad smile.  “Please, dear, don’t worry about that.  I know I’m… hard work young.  But you’ll see me again.  I mean, you know… _your_ me.”

She laughed wetly at that, smiling up at him through her tears.  “Promise?”

“I promise,” he repeated solemnly, fighting back a wave of self-loathing as he thought of every minute he’d wasted rejecting her, resisting her, holding her at arm’s length.  

He banished the thoughts from his mind by pressing his mouth to hers, desperately pulling her closer.  She met him with equal passion, wrapping one leg over his waist and swallowing his moan as she rolled her hips against him.

“See?” the Doctor panted in her ear.  “Already not the last time.”

He felt her smile against his neck.

“You should stay,” he breathed.  “As long as you can.  All summer, if you want.” _Forever, if you want,_ he may have thought too loudly, as wrapped up together as they were.

River kissed him again in answer, her hearts thundering against his chest.

 

——

 

He had to do it.  It had to be done someday.  If he didn’t, it all never happened.  They never happened.  He couldn’t risk that.  He could never forgive himself for that.  Better to have loved and lost…

Even in his mind, the Doctor couldn’t complete the thought.  It choked him.  But he had to be happy for her, had to be brave for her.  After all, he promised.  He promised River another last time.

So he sent her a message.  

 

_Singing Towers.  Pick you up at our wedding night.  Don’t be late.  x_

 

He’d forgotten all about himself until he rounded the corner of her old cell block in Stormcage and saw her in that dress, disappearing into another TARDIS.

“No, River!” he called, chasing after her.  “Wrong TARDIS, I’m parked round… back.”  As he followed her through the door he came face to face with himself, and though he put on a smile, he’d never been more viscerally jealous of anyone in his life.  “Younger version.”

River gasped. _“Two of you!_  The mind races, does it not?”

“Come on, we’ll be late,” he insisted, stepping up behind her and taking a deep breath of her perfume, already clinging to each molecule of _her_ as if it were his last.  Thankfully, she was excited enough about him finally relenting to take her on this date that she decided not to press the matter.

“He’s taking me to the Singing Towers of Darillium!” she called as she made for the door.  “He’s been promising for ages!”

His younger self’s face fell.

—

She was right, of course.  He was a nostalgic idiot.  Even the scent of depressing metallic damp in Stormcage filled him with longing, remembering the giddy excitement he felt each night he’d arrived here to spirit his wife away.  Of course, he imagined her feelings about the place were rather more complicated.

Even those wonderful decades had been rubbish for her, really.  Locked up here, all for his sake.  He owed her so much more.  Now that she was finally free, with a home to call her own when they weren’t together, with students who loved and admired her brilliance as she’d always deserved, with so much of the universe still to explore… now, _now,_ he was really going to call it the end?

They were here, this very night, newlyweds with everything still ahead of them.  Everything, including this.

“You know what?” the Doctor said, sliding his arm around River’s waist.  “The Singing Towers really are rubbish.”

“Oh, no, you’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” she groaned, pulling away indignantly to face him.  “You can’t possibly be cancelling again!  Look, I’ve gotten all done up for it!”

“Yes, dear, and your loveliness would be positively wasted on those towers.  We’ve got to go somewhere better.  How about Florana again?  That tour guide ruined the experience last time!  We need a do-over.”

 _“Doctor,”_ she whinged as they came to his TARDIS, “I can’t believe you!  You know how I was looking forward to thi—”

He backed her up against the side of the TARDIS and kissed her, breathing her in, holding her face in shaking hands while his racing pulse roared in his ears.  It was too soon.  It was always going to be too soon.  

Someday, maybe, he’d be strong enough.  It definitely wasn’t today.

He pulled away slowly, loath to part his lips from hers; his breathing heavy, eyes wrenched shut.

He finally opened them when River’s hand came up to brush gently over his cheek, and she was giving him that look, again.  The one that saw more than she ought to see.

“Okay,” she whispered.  “Florana, then.”

“Promise you won’t regret it,” the Doctor sighed, trying not to visibly sag with relief.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, but her voice was soft, and she lifted his hand to her lips, kissing his fingers.  He silently thanked her as she turned and pulled him after her into the TARDIS, the scent of violets following in her wake.

The last time could wait.

 


End file.
